


baby pumpkins

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: fictober 2020 [12]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: It’s been three and a half weeks now, and there is no end in sight. Bunce retreated to her family within the first two weeks. Snow’s getting antsy, and handsy. Frankly, there’s not much else to do. Snow’s entirely mentality for this lockdown situation appears to be either baking or fucking.I’m not upset with this arrangement per se, but I have been deprived of some specific grooming services since March.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: fictober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949911
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	baby pumpkins

**Author's Note:**

> day 12: baby pumpkins
> 
> i have no explanation, only apologies. 
> 
> this is dedicated to the discord and every chaotic force on there that wanted some chest waxing shenanigans. i tried. this is crack. this is awful. you're welcome.

**BAZ**

It’s been nearly a month since we’ve been able to leave the flat. As soon as I heard news of the shelter at home orders I packed as much as I could into a bag, bid Fiona farewell, and rushed over to Snow and Bunce’s.

Not that I don’t love my dear aunt Fiona, but I would rather be quarantined with my boyfriend. Especially seeing as we’re not sure how long this whole ordeal might last. (And _especially_ considering we have already put a firm ‘no cybersex’ rule in place after the last time we were apart for a considerable amount of time and Fiona proved to have no sense of respect for a shut and locked bedroom door.)

It’s been three and a half weeks now, and there is no end in sight. Bunce retreated to her family within the first two weeks. Snow’s getting antsy, and _handsy_. Frankly, there’s not much else to do. Snow’s entirely mentality for this lockdown situation appears to be either baking or fucking.

I’m not upset with this arrangement per se, but I have been deprived of some specific grooming services since March.

I’m all too aware of it when Simon’s suckling at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, letting his hands travel down my chest until they reach the hem of my shirt. As soon as he grabs at it I take his hands and move them to my trousers instead. I feel him grinning against my throat, then he’s pulling back to look at me.

“Skipping right to the point, are we?”

He pushes my trousers down, meeting me with another searing kiss as I carefully step out of them and kick them aside. (They’re _his_ trackies, I’m not too worried over them.) (I’ve taken to wearing them because Simon’s taken to wearing none at all.)

Fingertips ghost up my sides, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. My shirt’s pooling over his hands.

I grab his wrists.

“What’s wrong?” He leans back again, a concerned frown painted over his face. I shake my head, assure him it’s nothing, but he turns away when I go in for another kiss. “Baz, you’re a shite liar. Something’s bothering you, what is it? Is this about your nipples?”

“I’m an incredible liar,” I argue. “Also, what about my nipples?”

He waves me off, ignoring my question. “You’re terrible at lying to _me_. So, what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me take your shirt off?”

I let out a heavy sigh because he’s right, I’ve become too soft to properly lie to him. The downside to allowing yourself to fall completely in love with your nemesis.

He’ll only continue to pester me if I don’t tell him, and with this quarantine there is literally no escape. So, I have no option but to admit…

“I’ve not been able to… take care of myself as much as I usually do.”

Simon’s brow furrows and he shakes his head. “Baz, we’ve been locked inside for weeks, I’m sure everyone’s gained a few pounds from quarantine, that’s okay—”

“Crowley, no, not — First, my nipples, now has my weight become an issue?”

“Wha— No! I was just saying it wasn’t! You’re perfect — What are you on about then?”

“I’ve not been able to wax since we’ve been quarantined!”

Simon frowns again, eyes flicking down to my chest and back up. “D’ya need to?”

I don’t have a chance to answer, his face lights up within a second and he’s excitedly saying, “I saw something the other day, about waxing during quarantine! Exactly this problem!”

**SIMON**

I didn’t know Baz waxed his chest, but I suppose it makes sense. He’s got to shave pretty frequently or his face gets all stubbly. (I wish he wouldn’t sometimes; I like the stubble.)

We’ve not left the flat since the quarantine started, not even for groceries. Baz has them delivered, then he goes through and disinfects each item before putting it away. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Baz was too embarrassed to ask someone else to buy a wax kit and have it delivered.

Luckily I found this video online the other day about self-care during quarantine.

Baz put up a bit of a fight when I first suggested it, but eventually came around to letting me help him wax. (I’m a little excited at the prospect of seeing Baz with _chest hair_ , but he wants to get rid of it so I will do what I can to help him.)

I gather the supplies I can remember from the video, all of which we thankfully have, and carry it all to the lounge where Baz is stretched out across the sofa.

“Are those… miniature pumpkins?” Baz asks as I sit everything down on the coffee table. I nod.

“The juice from baby pumpkins can be used in the wax and in some exfoliating mixture you’re supposed to use before.” I line the table with all of the necessary items. Two baby pumpkins, white sugar, a candle, strips of wax paper, and three bowls.

“How do you get the juice from a miniature pumpkin?”

“Carefully.”

**BAZ**

I watch Snow work to make the two mixtures. He’s cut open the two pumpkins and started squeezing the juice out of the meat into each of his bowls, then he’s adding sugar to the first one.

“This is to exfoliate,” he explains, shifting closer to the sofa with the first mixture in hand. I pull my shirt off, trying not to be self-conscious about the state of my chest. (And stomach, now.) (And _nipples_. I’ve still no idea what he meant with that.)

It’s easy not to feel self-conscious when I look back at Simon and see the dark look in his eyes. My face flushes under his gaze, then he’s shaking the look away and scooping up a handful of the mixture and dropping it on my chest. I hiss when it hits; It’s _cold_.

Simon murmurs an apology and then he’s rubbing the mixture over my skin, warming it up. It’s scratchy and smells overwhelmingly of pumpkin. I realize I’m not actually a fan of the smell of pumpkin.

After rubbing the exfoliating mixture over me, with increasingly suggestive strokes across my body, Simon wipes it all away and returns to his second bowl of pumpkin juice.

And a candle.

That he’s lighting.

“Are you using _candle wax_?” I’m suddenly not so sure this is a good idea.

“Well… yeah, it’s wax, innit?” He’s pouring the melted candle wax into a third bowl, then turning back to me. “Are you ready?”

I’m staring at him, one brow raised mostly out of distress.

Then I nod against my better judgement, and Simon’s tipping the bowl over one section of my chest. It’s still hot, the exact opposite of the pumpkin and sugar mixture he just used. I squeeze my eyes shut, asking every deity I can think of to save me from any burns.

I feel Simon’s fingers on my chest, feeling over the edge of the wax. He pulls at the edge and —

“ _FUCK_.”

“Oh god, Ba—”

“ _SHIT — FUCKING — SNOW._ ”

The wax has dried into the hair now, and rather than peeling off quickly and easily with a sharp tug, it’s breaking off in pieces in Simon’s fingers as he tries to pull it off.

**SIMON**

I’ve royally fucked up this time.

Baz has still got clumps of wax in some of his chest hair, but he’s made me stop trying to pluck it out.

“I’m sorry, love.” I’ve apologized approximately fifty times at this point. Baz just waves me off every time. It’s been nearly twenty minutes since the last attempt at removing the wax and Baz is letting me touch him again, enough to climb on top of him and press a kiss to the center of his chest. Just above a piece of wax stuck in.

“I know,” Baz sighs. He runs his fingers through my curls. “You’re barred from those horrendous videos from now on, though.”

“That’s fair,” I laugh. I press another kiss on his pec. “If you really want it, we can order a waxing kit. Try it again with proper tools.”

He nods. I bite the corner of my lip, pausing a moment before continuing, “But for what it’s worth… I kind of like it like this.”

Baz laughs this time, leaning his head back onto the arm of the sofa.

Later that night, he tries to block all channels and profiles that promise ‘life hacks’ or ‘diy crafts’ on every social media account I have.

At least the pumpkin and sugar scrub was true, it was very exfoliating.


End file.
